M2K X-Factor
by Marvel2000Fanfic
Summary: Cross-posted from our shared universe site, Marvel 2000, this X-Factor team focuses on Cypher, Daken, Morph, and a new Xorn as they work within the newly formed Mutant Response Team.


**X-Factor #1**

 **"The Collection – Part 1 of 2"**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

* * *

The sound of giant lights being switched on overhead reverberated through the large warehouse. Despite the fact that stacks of crates with non-descript markings lined the walls, dampening the sound, the low thrum still echoed through the building.

"What are we doing here?" Doug asked.

The man standing behind Doug Ramsey took in a deep breath, as if preparing to take his first step on a long journey. As a member of the X-Men and the New Mutants, Doug had seen a lot of bizarre things in extraordinary situations, so it stood to reason that he could handle whatever was in the warehouse. While his compatriot knew this, and reminded himself of these facts, he still felt nervous on behalf of the recently resurrected mutant. _*_

 _* [Check out X-Men: The Lazarus Contract to learn how scores of mutants have come back from the grave]_

"Staggered appendage movement, tensed facial muscles, and above-average lung capacity," Doug said. "What is making you nervous about this place? You can tell me, Alex. I've trusted you this far."

Alex Summers, better known in some circles as leader of the X-Men, Havok, allowed a small laugh to escape as he exhaled. "Sorry," he replied. "I forget that you can read body language so intricately. I'll try not to project."

Doug followed Alex deeper into the warehouse, rounding stacks of crates and mounds of boxes that nearly went up to the high ceiling. Doug chanced a look up, noticing the gray and puffy insulation that had been adhered there.

"What's stored here?" Doug inquired.

"Records," Alex responded as they rounded another stack of crates. "This is a government repository for all mutant activity since monitoring began in the 1960s. Inside these boxes are hard copies of FBI reports, CIA chatter, and Congressional hearings concerning mutant investigations. While most things are done digitally now, the bureaucrats still want physical records kept. They call it the Archive."

"That explains the multiple security gates. It's like a historical library on mutants."

"Exactly." Alex stopped and gestured for Doug to continue by him. "It's also going to be your base of operations for the project we discussed."

Doug matched eyes with Alex as he passed him, reaching for the door at the end of the row they had come to within the maze. "The Mutant Response Team?"

Alex nodded and Doug opened the door.

On the other side sat three individuals that looked their way as they entered. Seated around a large oval table was a tattooed man with a mohawk, a pale-faced and muscular humanoid, and an athletic-looking woman with her head encased in a metal helmet.

Doug paused, reading the miniscule movements of their forms, taking in their body language and nonverbal communication instantly. While he trusted Alex Summers, these three were all throwing up red flags as to their comfort levels and reactive reasoning.

Alex motioned for Doug to sit at the table with the others as he took up a position at the head of the table, choosing to remain standing.

"You've all been briefed on what the Mutant Response Team has as a primary objective," Alex began. "You've also all agreed to the terms of your membership. You four operatives have unique skillsets that make you fundamental to the tasks at hand; but that doesn't mean you can't be replaced."

"I appreciate you admitting that I'm cannon fodder," the one with the mohawk said.

Doug glanced his way, recognizing him from the file that Alex had supplied him with beforehand. When Alex had approached him in the SHIELD detainment facility, offering him a role in this project, his first condition was getting dossiers on his new teammates. _*_ Meeting these people in person, however, was a lot different than reading about them in a government file.

 _* [Read X Unlimited #50 for details]_

His name was Daken, and his file had been uncomfortably thin. The short of it was that he was a killer, and that was his main purpose for being on the team. He had been apprehended in Madripoor after he assassinated a local magnate, by hand. His handler has turned him in as part of a plea deal. Otherwise he likely would not have been caught.

He was an expert tracker, martial artist, and tactician. His mutant abilities included increased senses, a healing factor, and pheromone manipulation. He could also extend and retract at will a set of bone claws approximately eight inches in length from each arm, although the file didn't specify if this was a mutant ability or the result of surgical intervention.

Daken leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on the oval table, a look of conceit on his face. Doug regarded the visible tattoos that ran the length of his collar bone and part of his neck. They looked tribal in appearance, but no discernable language was part of the design.

"Not cannon fodder, Daken," Alex shot back. "You're assets. Valuable ones; but not so valuable that the government or the Xavier Institute is going to publically acknowledge you."

"I haven't been publically acknowledged for years," the pale-faced man cut in. "It hurt my feelings at first, but I got over it quick enough. You'll see. It's like you're someone's secret Santa, only instead of exchanging gifts its bullets."

"Every team needs a smartass, right?" Daken said.

The pale-faced man learned forward and his face began to contort and rearrange itself. His mandible dropped slightly beneath the white skin, his cheek bones became slightly elevated, and a crop of dark hair sprung from his scale to match Daken's mohawk.

"Takes one to know one!" the shape-shifter said, matching Daken's tone and inflection perfectly. He fell back into his chair with a hearty laugh as his face realigned itself back to the stark imprint of chalk white color and no nose.

Doug recalled the file, knowing him as a supposedly dead X-Man named Morph. Also known as Changeling, Kevin Sydney had faked his death at the request of Charles Xavier himself, opting to became a master of subterfuge. Invaluable intelligence had been supplied to Xavier and his government contacts for years thanks to the mimicry of Morph.

He could shape-change his entire body to impersonate any humanoid form or creature, regardless of size or density differences. His powers were limited to appearance only; he could not duplicate mutations or unnatural abilities.

Morph was also known to be a bit of a prankster, and seeing the look in Daken's eyes, Doug could already feel tension developing within the group.

"That's enough," Alex said. "The government is funding this Mutant Response Team as a bridge between Washington and the mutant population. A lot of suits at the Pentagon think that the X-Men's public image is counterproductive to the government's goals. I spearheaded this project as a way of satisfying the brass while keeping control of our own agenda. For this to work, the team needs to work. Together. Otherwise you'll all be sent back to where we found you."

Morph smiled and saluted with his right hand, then his left. Eyeballing his raised left hand, he feigned embarrassment and dropped it in favor of a third salute with his right hand again. Daken rolled his eyes, but let the issue drop flat.

"You said we wouldn't be made public," the woman in the helmet said.

Alex twisted to face her. "You won't be, I can assure you of that. The Mutant Response Team is meant to appease the Pentagon, the President, and any other officials who think they need to control mutant affairs. You're assets of the United States government, but you're already disavowed. You're sort of an x-factor in the whole mutant relations equation."

The woman nodded once and relaxed in her chair. Reading her body language, Doug could tell that she had been ready for an aggressive exchange, but that Alex's words had satiated her concerns. She truly trusted him.

The file on her had been limited to a code name and power set description. There hadn't even been a picture of her real face beneath the helmet, although he knew that the helmet wasn't actually hers. The code name of Xorn had come along with the metal helmet that covered her head completely.

Alex had confided in him that he she was on the team to keep a closer eye on her.

She had seemingly unlimited control over the electromagnetic spectrum, including energy manipulation and visual acuity. She could literally see energy. He wondered if the way her eyes interpreted energy was similar to how he could now somehow see language as it spilled out of someone's mouth.

"This location, the Archive, will serve as your operations center until a better location is established," Alex continued. "I won't accompany you in the field, but as government liaison for the X-Men—"

"Hold it," Daken said. He stuck his thumb out toward Doug. "Who's the puppy you brought in with you?"

"Douglas Ramsey," Alex said without missing a beat. "He's going to be the field leader. Code name: Cypher. He's an omniligualist, which means any and all forms of communication can't hide any secrets from him. He's an expert in computer programming and coding, and has field experience with the X-Men."

"You're putting an analyst in charge of the field ops?" Daken said with a snort. "Right. Tells you how valuable you really think we are. We're all as good as dead the first time out."

"I can assure you he's more than capable."

Without warning, Daken leapt from his chair and extended three claws from his left arm; two protruding from the back of his hand and a third from the underside of his wrist. In an instant, Daken was over the table and beside Doug, the tips of his claws stabbing toward Doug's face.

Except that Daken had telegraphed his intent before Alex had finished speaking. Daken was good; he had obvious experience getting the drop on his targets. He was used to propelling his body into action without warning, but his mannerisms, no matter how controlled, were still an open book to Doug's mutant ability.

 _Held breath; contracted right-side oblique muscles; chin lowered and tilted to align with Doug's position; left arm raised above the table height._

The very moment that Daken had displaced the energy to raise himself out of his chair, Doug had reacted. He had slipped beneath the trajectory of Daken's arm and slid from the chair, tucking into a roll and standing behind Daken, extracting a burka knife from where it has been strapped to the small of his back. The tip of the curved blade pressed against the back of Daken's neck, causing him to freeze.

Daken was an expert martial artist and trained killer, but he was too used to his opponents reacting to his movement as opposed to preempting it.

Doug had been prepared for a possibly hostile group, having read their files in advance. The burka, along with its twin still strapped to his back, had been a safety measure. When asked by Alex if he knew how to use a blade, Doug had demonstrated an innate ability to use the short weapon as well as a general mastery of several composite fighting styles.

Being resurrected had changed him somehow, changed his mutant abilities. He was truly a master of all languages, including body language, which included total control over his physical movement and capability.

He glanced down at his right leg, which had been replaced by a techno-organic prosthetic at some point prior to his resurrection. Things had certainly changed for him indeed.

"Stand down!" Alex shouted.

Daken laughed, and his form relaxed enough that Doug knew that the danger had passed. The killer retracted his claws. "Very cute," Daken said. "I'm impressed. You should know that I don't impress easily. Cypher it is then."

"If you think that's impressive," Morph said, "then just wait until the boss here tells us to hit the showers."

"If you're done with the macho crap," Alex said, "we have a briefing to continue."

Morph leaned toward Xorn and said, "Or a debriefing. Am I right?"

The eyes in Xorn's helmet flashed iridescent blue, prompting Morph to clear his throat and lean back in his chair away from her. He grew a collar and necktie from his flesh and pulled at it with one finger, saying, "Tough room."

Alex plopped down a stack of folders in the center of the table to draw the attention back to him. "Each of you take one," he said. "This is everything we have on your first assignment. Someone is abducting mutants off the streets. Three confirmed cases so far. You'll find the information on each missing mutant in the file, as well as locations and photos of their last known locations."

"Missing mutants?" Daken said. "Seems a little beneath us. You didn't bring me on board to find kidnappers."

"No," Alex replied, "I brought you on board as part of a prisoner rehabilitation program, plus you have some admirers in Washington. The abducted were all low-level mutants that Cerebro was monitoring in New York City. Normally, one or two mutants going missing isn't too unusual, but three implies a pattern."

"Shouldn't local authorities handle this?" Xorn inquired. "Are we being involved solely because the victims are mutants?"

"Yes and no. Think of this as a pilot program. Yes, the victims are mutants and it fits within the charter for the Mutant Response Team. No, because local authorities are not equipped to handle this particular situation."

"That sounds like the other shoe is about to drop," Morph said.

Alex nodded. "When these mutants were taken, they vanished from the grid completely. Where Cerebro is concerned, that's simply not possible."

Doug recalled seeing Cerebro in action back at the Xavier Institute. When guided by a telepath, Cerebro was a powerful supercomputer specifically designed to track and uncover mutants around the world. He had even developed some of the code for one of the updates alongside the famed Hank McCoy, otherwise known as Beast of the X-Men.

To say that even Cerebro couldn't track the mutants any longer was disturbing. Even if they were dead it would still be recorded.

"Any indication of who might be involved?" Xorn asked.

"That's what you're going to find out," Alex replied.

* * *

"Join the team, he says. Money, and power, and women, he says. Oy vey…"

"Shut it, Morph," Daken spat out.

Daken led the group through a dark tunnel beneath the streets of New York City, their footsteps accentuated by the spluttering of slime and still-wet grime. With the exception of Morph, who technically wore no clothing, their leather uniforms were watertight. The smell, however, was still enveloping their senses, especially the enhanced ones belonging to Daken.

Walking steadily forward in a half-crouch, Daken had taken the point position without being asked to do so. Morph stalked behind him, too loudly for Daken's comfort, and perhaps on purpose. It seemed like there was no end to the shape-shifter's enjoyment from pestering the killer.

The local areas where the three abductions had been had only one commonality: the same neglected spillway ran beneath each location. Given that no traffic cameras or nearby security feeds had captured footage of the abductions, the spillway was their first and only lead.

Xorn avoided the entire mess of the ancient tunnel system by forming an electromagnetic shell around herself and simply levitating over the disgusting sludge. A blue shimmer of energy encapsulated her body, holding her a few inches up in the air. She trailed behind Daken and Morph, silent, but apparently at the ready.

Cypher took the rear position, which he preferred. He was more comfortable being able to read the team's body language and analyze the words spilling from their mouths. In addition to the pair of burkas strapped to his back, he had added twin Walther P99s, one on each hip. He was beginning to feel the need to draw them, but knew it was just the tense atmosphere getting to him.

"What is your nose picking up?" Morph asked. "Rotten eggs? Stale farts? My mother's cooking?"

"I told you to—"

Morph cupped a hand around where his ear would be, had he bothered to form one on his chalk white face. "What is it, boy? Timmy's in the well?"

Daken held up a hand to simultaneously silence Morph and halt the progress of the group. While the hand was perpendicular to the slime-covered ground, he closed his fingers into a fist and popped up three bone claws, signaling more than just hesitance.

Blinding light suddenly surrounded them, obliterating any orientation the four mutants had to their immediate surroundings. The sudden flash refused to die down, maintaining a powerful glare that seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once.

"Take them!" a foreign voice commanded from somewhere in front of them.

Cypher reacted by withdrawing the pair of Walter P99s, the fingers on his right hand brushing against the techno-organic leg that had somehow replaced his flesh and bone one. He spun around and raised the weapons to cover their rear flank, even though the light was just as intense there as it was everywhere else.

"Interesting," Xorn said, her voice being given a metallic edge from within the helmet. "Independent light generation with no temperature fluctuation."

Footsteps came from throughout the spillway, surrounding them. Whoever was done there with them was already making their move, taking full advantage of their disorientation.

"Can you do something about it?" Cypher called out as he tried to shield his eyes, but the light was everywhere and yet coming from nowhere.

The blue iridescence in Xorn's eyes faded slightly. She raised her hands and dark shadows formed around her fingertips. Abruptly, she dragged her arms down through the air, pulling the light's intensity with it. Her mastery over the electromagnetic spectrum was extending to absorb and dissipate the mysterious light plaguing their senses.

The piercing light now gone, the team was desperately trying to see beyond the dancing spots in their vision. Slowly, blobs of human forms began to take shape, becoming more clear by the second. People of various sizes were quickly surrounding them, seemingly much more comfortable with the spillway then they were.

One such person, a young man with light blue skin, was down on one knee and being attended to by two others. All of them wore ragged clothing, were caked in mud or other substances, and looked generally disheveled.

"Are you okay, Lightswitch?" one of them asked the young man.

"That bitch shut me down!" he shouted. "Imma kill her!"

"Relax," the strange voice called out again. "They will be joining us soon enough."

The group turned toward the source of the voice, seeing a man garbed in a gaudy green costume, complete with a cape with purple lining. His sneer matched the blunt ugliness of his aesthetic, and his eyes danced over the four surrounded mutants with glee.

With a gesture a tall, thin man a dozen feet from Cypher extended his arms, and multiple strands of leathery ropes jettisoned from his palms, wrapping around Cypher and Xorn. Cypher managed to squeeze off a shot, but was unprepared and the bullet went wide, striking off of a brick wall harmlessly.

Daken crouched low and sprung up in the air, but was caught there by an emerging plume of thick, white smoke. The choking fog appeared translucent, but was seemingly solid enough as Daken found that he couldn't even retract his claws again. He was totally paralyzed in midair.

"Whipsnap; Cloud 9…thank you," the green man said, turning to face Morph. "That just leaves you."

Morph returned the sneer and then shuddered, casting off the visage of his chalk-white face and leather uniform, twisting and contorting his body until his bulk increased to twice his normal size. His arms thickened and his fists condensed into rock-hard clubs. His teeth elongated into sharp fangs, with a slick tongue darting in between them.

He pounded the club-hands together and then on the ground like a simian, shouting, "Bring it on, Donkey Kong!"

The man in green simply matched his gaze to Morph, and the shape-shifter found the intent to do harm drain from his emotional core. Just as quickly as his aggressive stature had changed, so did it revert. Within seconds Morph stood docile, his arms at his side, and his eyes glazed over.

"Such a display is typically only that!" the man said. "Just like these other runaways and transients I found throughout the alleyways of the city, so too are you now under my influence. Few can resist the incredible power of… _Mesmero!_ "

* * *

 _ **Next issue:**_ _Captured and under the control of the mind-bending Mesmero, the Mutant Response Team is already in dire straits (and it's only their first mission!). How can Cypher, Daken, Morph, and Xorn possibly hope to free themselves when their wills are not their own?_

* * *

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